P I P E R
by SLOVA
Summary: The tenth Doctor has found a young woman unable to focus in the cozy New Yorker pub she works in. Is she simply just a little too uninterested in all of her surroundings, or is there something lurking in the depths of her mind that urges the Doctor into asking her to come along with him?


**|| A roleplay between my friend Lydia and I, where she calls dibs on the Doctor and I on Piper. It updates as often as we do. ||**

. . . .

Piper . . . .

"Piper!"

Shaking her head out of her reverie, a young woman clad in a pink, low-cut blouse and crème, chiffon skirt looked up at the gentleman who had approached her. "Stop dazing off, kid. What goes through that little head of yours all the time?"

" . . . nothing very interesting," replied the young lady softly. Was she a teenager? In her twenties? It was hard to tell, mostly because of all the make-up she wore which, although gave her the look of the mid-60's, gave her age away to assumption. He left her alone after a moment, deciding she could fend for herself.

Earlier in the half hour, she had given a sort of show for the veterans down in old Muscrat Line Bar. She sang a song for them which she knew they would like. 'Blue Velvet', it was called. A compelling performance, cut short by a faulty wire, she supposed. The record had stopped playing the accompanying music. Either way, she adjourned back into the other side of the interior of the bar, sitting down at a stationary. He had . . . asked her to do something; something with the envelope in her hand . . . what was it? She couldn't remember. She didn't really care to. She spaced out again, an intelligent look in her vacant, far-off eyes. She did this very often.

"Shame about the music." A bright, cheery voice spoke up next to the young woman a few moments later, with an accent that seemed a bit out of place in this area. It belonged to a tall, skinny young man standing beside the stranger, beaming and looking over at the area where she had been singing earlier. He wore a blue pinstriped suit which actually didn't look too out-of-the-ordinary, although the bright red trainers and his spiky brown hair offset the classy look a good deal.

Beaming, the bloke glanced back at the pink-clad girl again. "You're very good, y'know," he added, "I'd have liked to have heard the rest."

At the blurred mention of her singing, she sang lowly at a murmuring volume: "Bluer than velvet were her eyes . . . " She straightened up slowly, looking around, then to the man beside her. Had he said something? He was well-dressed, eccentric-looking, smiling. Deducing that he must have complimented her, her large eyes surveyed the envelope in her hand. Maybe he was meant to pick this up. She couldn't remember. She decided the former idea. "Thank you," she said gently, her eyes luring up to the handsome young man's. She smiled distractedly, but only for a moment. "A shame about the record, it was fun," she commented, but was struck by a wave of deja vu. Had she said that before? Had he?

"Yeah," agreed the gentleman, laughing a little and smiling at the pretty young woman. "Have you been singing around here for long? I haven't heard you before tonight."

"Not very long . . . now and then," replied the lady, exhaling slowly and rubbing her temple briefly as she shut her dark-painted eyes. It was getting so hard for her to concentrate on the simplest things lately. Even someone already talking to her. It was obvious she was having some difficulty. "Around here?" she caught on to that at least, her eyes moving over his ensemble once more, reaching out to touch a fingertip to the lapel on his blazer before lowering it idly to her lap. "You don't seem like one to drink so often to know what the . . . um." She closed her eyes again, remembering the word. She reopened them, looking distressed somewhat. "The . . . _line-up_, our line-up."

She straightened up slightly, leaning her head back and looking up at him, a Mona Lisa smile set on her full lips. "They call me Piper. Who are you?"

"I'm the Doctor; lovely to meet you, Piper," he said brightly. He paused, looking closely at her face for a moment. "And, sorry if this seems rude, but you look as if you could use one," he said softly, "_A doctor_, I mean, not a piper. Are you alright?"

"The Doctor . . . ?" Had Cage finally sent one for her? She frowned slightly, looking vaguely saddened, if not a little hurt. She didn't need a doctor, did she? She just had sort of a hard time keeping herself in check. On the other hand, doctors were meant to keep one in check. It made her uncomfortable, knowing that others could see how lost she felt at times. Even this short conversation was difficult. "I feel all right," she replied honestly, deciding there would be no harm in confiding if Cage had gone through the trouble of bringing him here. He was a real' nice guy: Cage. "I'm just not very good at keeping concentrated on what's going on around me."

"Well, nothing wrong with that," said the Doctor, pulling up a chair to sit in and propping his feet up on the table. "Stay in one place too long and you'll get tethered down, lose sight of the big picture." he said, "Always keep moving on, that's my motto. Or it would be, if I started having a motto."

He was rather confident to put his feet up just like that on Cage's desk. She wondered if he wanted her out of here. She was slacking on other work severely and he commented about her supposed daydreaming often. Her eyes lingered on the laces of the Doctor's shoes idly, as if there were something written in thin print on them and in another language. She hadn't seen shoes like these before . . . .

Then she remembered they were attached to him, and he was still there.

" . . . I'm sorry . . . you said something to me?" she asked, looking up at him again with slightly furrowed brows.

"Nothing important," said the Doctor, his eyebrows furrowing with concern as he looked at the pretty young woman. So distant, so sad . . . .

The skinny man stood up suddenly, grinning again. "Say, would you like to get some fresh air? It's pretty stuffy in here."

Piper scrutinized his eyes when he suggested some air. It was stuffy in here because of all the tobacco and booze wafting through the air, but why had he suggested that? If he was a doctor, this could have been treatment. But, she had been outside before . . . that hadn't helped. Maybe she was doing it wrong. Maybe she was breathing wrong. Maybe she needed company outside with her to get better at concentrating.

"That sounds like the ticket," she replied finally, rising to her feet. This girl didn't come off as distant with blank eyes. She had intelligent eyes, but its audience was selective was all. She pulled on a light, creme-colored coat and glanced around the corner into the hall, checking for Cage. He wasn't there. She shrugged with one shoulder and inclined her head for the skinny doctor-man to lead on.

The Doctor smiled handsomely at Piper, putting his hands in his pockets. He weaved his way through the crowd and finally stepped outside, taking a deep breath of fresh air. "So, I don't think you'd mentioned how long you'd been working here, Piper," he said once they were outside, "If you don't mind me asking. Do you travel to different clubs?"

"I don't go outside the city much anymore," admitted the young woman, slipping a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket, and placing one in her mouth. She offered him the carton to take one, too, if he wanted, her other hand searching idly for her lighter.

"I've worked here . . . " she began, a cigarette hanging by her lower lip as she glanced around thoughtfully. "A couple of years now . . . not too long. Cage gives me work and lets me sing sometimes. I work the bar, or the tables. I don't like the other clubs and bars around here as much. Then again, I think I only . . . like this one . . . "

She trailed off for a moment, as if waiting for something to happen. Nothing did, but she continued to speak after a long moment, still soft. "No. No, I don't go outside the city much anymore."

**|| Thanks for reading; reviews are appreciated. ||**


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